


Until our last breath

by Elenyafinwe



Series: Peredhil [8]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Death, Death, Family, Family Loss, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Númenor, One Shot, Second Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenyafinwe/pseuds/Elenyafinwe
Summary: For some years now, Elrond has been staying in Númenor to nurse his aged brother. Elros is happy to be able to spend his twilight years with Elrond, but he knows that their days together are numbered.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Elros Tar-Minyatur
Series: Peredhil [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077245
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Until our last breath

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Bis zu unserem letzten Atemzug](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/729753) by Elenyafinwe. 



> CN Death of a relative, suicidal tendencies towards the end

For a while Elros had been watching his brother amusedly as he roamed the bushes around the lake and enthusiastically harvested the nettles he had found here.

"Elrond, we were going fishing," Elros reminded him. "I don't want to hear tomorrow how you tore up your hands on the nettles."

"Your eyes haven't gotten so bad that you can't keep an eye on the floater," Elrond replied.

"But my hands are not strong enough now, should a big carp bite."

"You will probably still be able to hold the rod. Tomorrow we will be five hundred years old and not ..." Elrond interrupted himself abruptly and stared at his hands.

"Yes, five hundred. Not very young even for an elf," Elros reminded him.

And for a human, ancient.

Elrond turned to his brother. Gone were the days when they looked so much alike. It had been a long time since anyone had mistaken Elrond for the king of Númenor. Though Elros still stood upright, his hair was snow-white, his skin wrinkled and covered with age spots, and he had grown a beard long ago.

"You will catch a very beautiful carp," Elrond said for sure. "I will make a tea for you from the nettles, it will help you with your aching limbs. And then tomorrow we'll have a wonderful day together."

Elros said nothing and smiled sadly.

Elrond pushed away the thought of how frail his brother had become in recent years, and that he had already lived far longer than a human being should. He had even outlived Lómelinde long ago.

Instead, he sat down with him so that they could now look out onto the lake together. They had often come here before to enjoy their time together. Such moments had become rare since Elros went to Númenor.

"You have been with me for some time now," Elros remarked at one point. "Longer than before. Isn't Galad lost without you?"

"Do you want to throw me out?" Elrond replied jokingly.

"What do you think of me? Brother, I am appalled!"

"One never knows with you! Oh, look! Something bit! Quick!"

They grabbed the rod and together they struggled to reel in whatever they had on the hook. It had to be a really big fish, and one that was fighting for its life very hard. Even in twos they had some problems to tame the animal.

"It must be a giant," exclaimed Elros."We'll have it for dinner tonight."

Since Elros did not have enough strength left in his hands to land such a strong fish, it was mainly up to his brother to provide for their dinner. When Elrond had pulled the carp almost to the jetty, it swam to the surface and seemed to launch a final desperate counterattack. He struck a few times with his powerful tail fin and splashed water on them. Elros laughed, and although Elrond had gotten most of the water, he too fell into the laughter as he saw his brother so happy.

The carp was a monstrous animal, and there was definitely enough of it for their dinner with their family today. The brothers had brought a large bucket of water with them to keep their catch. But it was almost too small for this fish.

"I never knew what kind of monsters you breed in your palace gardens," Elrond said as he watched the fish bumping its nose against the walls of his prison.

"Neither did I!" Elros confessed. "A fine catch, you should be proud, brother."

"You helped."

"I touched the rod and that's all. You landed him, after all."

Elrond wanted to protest, but Elros did not engage in further discussion. So they packed their things and brought their catch back to the palace. No one was surprised anymore when the king stood in the kitchen with his brother and a bucket full of fish and demanded that the same fish be served for dinner.

And it became a really delicious meal! Elros' cooks were masters of their trade and knew how to make a real feast out of even a simple carp. Elros had called his children to dinner, and Elrond was happy to spend time with his nephews and his niece Tindómiel. He was especially fond of Vardamir. He saw much of himself in the knowledge-hungry boy. Although, he remembered, he should probably no longer call a man of over three hundred and eighty years a boy.

They had all grown so old, it went through Elrond's mind. It was as if it was only yesterday that the little boy Vardamir greeted him joyfully at the harbour and only a few weeks later he helpet bringing Vardamir's sister Tindómiel into the world. Where had all those years gone? Time had left its mark on both Elros and his family, but it had passed Elronds like wind in the fields.

"What's on your mind, brother?" Elros asked.

Elrond startled and noticed that he had been staring gloomily at his food for some time.

"All is well", he waved. "The fish is really delicious."

Elros looked at him with a furrowed brow, but said nothing more.

If an outsider saw them like that, he probably wouldn't think they were family. Suddenly, Elrond was terrified of what the future might bring. It was not the first time he wondered whether his brother had perhaps made the wiser choice.

After dinner, he accompanied Vardamir to the library where, as so often in recent years, they sat together and talked about their latest scientific and philosophical findings. Elrond greatly appreciated the intellectual exchange with his nephew; Vardamir was one of the wisest spirits he had met in his life, and although Elrond was considered one of the Wise of Middle-earth, he had learned much from Vardamir.

They often sat together until long after midnight and often forgot the time about it. While Vardamir's brothers and sisters often jokingly complained that they were already too old to pull an all-nighter, he seemed to be fine with it.

It therefore surprised Elrond to hear someone hurrying through the library at such a late hour. A glance out of the window told him that it would soon dawn and that midnight was long gone. They really should go to sleep soon.

The footsteps drew nearer to them. Somewhat surprised, Elrond interrupted his conversation with Vardamir and turned to the newcomer. It was one of the palace servants. He looked as if he had been torn out of his sleep and immediately shooed to them. A bad feeling came over Elrond.

"Prince Vardamir, Lord Elrond, the king's condition has deteriorated rapidly," he said as soon as they were within earshot.

"Oh, no!" Vardamir gasped.

Elrond did not stop to inquire how exactly his brother was doing. Instead, he jumped up and started running. Fear drove him on, fear for his brother. For years he had been worried that this moment would come when they would be separated forever. It simply could not be that this moment had come now! He did not allow it!

He found his brother in his chambers. Servants were scurrying around, but he scared them all away and sent for Ceomon and Rethtulu instead. They were the only ones he trusted to help him properly.

Elros lay pale and feverish on his bed, gasping for breath. Elrond knelt beside him and took his hand. He felt for his pulse and realized with horror that it was much too high.

"Brother, what has happened? Tell me!" Desperation was in his voice.

Elros seemed to strive for his strength. "I am old. That's what happened," he said in an amazingly firm voice. "Don't be sad, brother. Not too much, anyway. I've known it for days. I only regret that it had to happen today of all days. Five hundred we are now, my dear brother."

"What, Elros? What did you know for days? I'll fix it, you'll see. And afterwards, it'll all be forgotten, and we'll have cake together, I promise."

Elros stroked his cheek with a trembling hand and wiped away the tears that were streaming down his face.

"I'm dying, brother," he said softly. "And not even you know of a cure for mortality. My time has come."

"No," Elrond whispered. And then again louder, "No!"

Meanwhile, Ceomon and Rethtulu had arrived with Elrond's equipment. They knew the situation at once and went to work. Elrond jumped up and immediately set about treating Elros' fever and his palpitations. This would certainly not be the end of his brother!

Ceomon and Rethtulu had quickly prepared damp cloths to lower the fever, and then helped Elrond prepare a herbal decoction to relieve Elros' shortness of breath and palpitations. Elros allowed Elrond to help him drink the brew. It seemed to help at least a little. In the meantime, Vardamir had come too, and saw how his father was doing. Elros beckoned him to him.

"Son, please send for your brothers and sisters. I have something to tell you," he told him. "And you, brother, please let me go. There's nothing more you can do for me."

Vardamir just nodded sadly and left to fulfill his father's wish. But Elrond did not think to give up his brother without a fight. He would do everything in his power until his last breath!

Shortly afterwards, Vardamir returned with his siblings as well as his children, nephews and nieces who were currently in the city. Tindómiel knelt down next to her father's bed and took his hand. She wept.

"Is this our farewell now?" she asked herself. "Can't even the healing arts of the elves help you now, Father?"

"I have lived long enough," Elros said. "Far longer than I should have. Now I'll go to your mother. But I'm glad you're all here now. Vardamir, help me up."

Vardamir followed this and helped his father to sit up in bed.

"And now, give me my crown and the scepter. There on the table."

And when Vardamir had also followed this and given his father the insignia of his power, he said, "You are the greatest king we will ever have, Tar-Minyatur. Father... You who gave us Númenor."

For a moment, Elros looked at the crown and scepter he had worn most of his life. Númenor was his life's work, he had made so much more from what the Valar had given him. Then he returned the crown and scepter to Vardamir.

"We talked of this, son," he said. "Tar-Vardamir. Go now and let the bells ring."

Vardamir seemed calm, but he too wept silent tears. Then he turned to his eldest son Amandil and presented him with the crown and scepter.

"Tar-Amandil", he said.

Elros called his children and children's children to him one after another and had a few last words for each of them. All the while Elrond sat beside him, nervous and full of sorrow. Elros could not be persuaded to continue to be treated by his brother. Elrond, however, was convinced that this did not have to be the end. He became increasingly desperate as he watched his brother bid farewell to his family. If only Elros would let himself be helped, he couldn't just let him go!

"Children, please leave now," Elros finally asked. "I want to spend a few last moments alone with my brother."

They said goodbye to Elros. Then they left. A heavy silence fell over the king's bedchamber.

"Elros..." croaked Elrond. "Please... ...let me help you. Please, not on this day."

"You have helped me more than enough already," Elros held softly. "I couldn't have said goodbye without you. I'm very grateful to you for that."

"But not on our birthday!" Elrond lamented in tears. "I will remember this for all eternity. Don't leave me. Do not go where I cannot follow. Perhaps..." He swallowed. "Maybe... We're Half-elven. Perhaps you will be allowed to go to Mandos after all."

Elros reached for his hand. His grip was already weakening, his last strength leaving him.

"You know what Eonwe said then," he reminded his brother regretfully. "Uncle Maglor had rightly feared a moment like this would come. I'm sorry, brother. I really am. Can you forgive me for causing you this cruel pain?"

Crying, Elrond pulled his brother into his arms. Elros had become horribly fragile.

"I forgive you everything, dearest brother," whispered Elrond.

Elros gratefully returned the embrace,

"Please don't be sad for too long," he asked. "Thank you, for everything. Elrond... brother..."

His arms sank down.

"Elros..." Elrond whispered. And then again, more urgently now, when he received no reply, "Elros!"

There was a smile on Elros' lips, but his eyes were empty. Elrond's mind completely refused to acknowledge reality. Again and again he whispered his brother's name, but there was no reply. Never again.

He was alone. For the first time in his life, he was truly alone.

He gently lowered Elros onto the bed. But as he became fully aware of his brother's limp body, the realization suddenly stormed the defensive walls of his mind with all its might. He jumped up, stumbled away from the bed and fell. Full of horror he put his hand to his mouth. His gaze faded. Desperately, he bit his fingers as if the pain could tear him out of this nightmare.

"Ceomon!" he cried in a voice stifled by tears. "We must...! We must..."

Yes, what did he have to do? Elros was only sleeping. All he did was sleep. Just sleep. Nothing else. Elros was asleep. That was the only truth his mind could accept.

Ceomon lowered himself to the ground beside him and pulled him into his arms. He too wept. "Oh, Elrond," he said regretfully. "My dear little Elrond. If only Lord Maglor were here and there for you. Why did the Valar place this terrible burden upon you?"

Outside, the bells rang and spread the sad tidings.

"The king is dead! Long live the king!" cried someone from the palace towers.

In horror, Elrond stared at the bed. Tears took his sight. But Elros was only sleeping!

Alone. Forever.

Elros had left him. He was gone, and no one knew where to go. He was lost forever.

At that moment, Elrond realized a single, incontrovertible truth: Without his brother, he too did not want to live. With Elros, he too had died.


End file.
